Losing Heart
by Tairi Soraryu
Summary: FFVIIIKingdom Hearts crossover. Squall's transition into Leon. Even the heart of a lion is prey to the shadows...Tentatively rated T.
1. Night Flight

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any rights to Final Fantasy VIII, Kingdom Hearts, or any component thereof. I merely borrow, steal, and maim without qualm.

Welcome to "Losing Heart"! I hope you enjoy my fanfic, as I suspect I will enjoy writing it. Please bear with me as I struggle through sticky plot lines, alternate universe-like theories, and writer's block galore. This fic is based upon the transition of my favorite character, Squall Leonhart, into the man called simply "Leon" who exists in the Kingdom Hearts world as a sort of mentor to the main character, Sora. If you have not played or are not familiar with either FFVIII or Kingdom Hearts, I really don't know what you're doing here. In order to connect the two storylines (Kingdom Hearts is, in a way, an AU for Final Fantasy characters,) I have to make FFVIII a little bit more AU. I've tried my best to stay true to the storyline. Enjoy!

* * *

**Losing Heart**

_Chapter One:  
Night Flight_

"Shit!"

The curse burst out reflexively, and Squall Leonhart, Commander of Balamb Garden, made an instinctive and ungainly leap over to the furry shape crouched in the entranceway to his room. Fighting to keep his feet under him, Squall staggered to the nearest wall and slapped at it indiscriminately until he hit the light switch. The bright illumination that flooded the living room momentarily blinded him, and Squall blinked rapidly to focus his gaze on the cat glaring up at him through accusatory green eyes from the small welcome rug placed by the front door to the dorm room.

"Don't you look at me, Plumpy," Squall informed the sleek orange-striped cat as it twitched the tip of its tail in agitation. "You're the one skulking around in the dark under my feet." He stifled a yawn and passed through the cozy sitting area to his bedroom, the cat following him on soundless paws, not the least contrite for its actions.

It had been a long day, most of it wasted as the Garden haggled with the local authorities over their rights and restrictions concerning the construction of an additional permanent Garden complex beside the current structure. Politicians, and those who dabbled in politics, were all lunatics as far as Squall was concerned. Looney as Ochus, every one of them. Prolonged contact with their kind—their _species_—could result in permanent brain damage. Squall rubbed his temple at the faint headache lurking there, just below the surface, and stripped down to his boxers before falling facedown into his pillow and the welcome oblivion of sleep.

He was just about to pull the covers over his head when he remembered. "Bahamut blast it all," he muttered, rolling onto his back and glaring at the ceiling.

First, he'd forgotten to turn off the lights.

Second, he needed to get Angelo.

Well, okay, Squall amended mentally. He didn't _need_ to get Angelo. Rinao had said that her faithful dog would be fine spending the nights alone in her room until she returned from her two-week trip. Of course, she had also mentioned in the same breath, albeit it somewhat jokingly, that Angelo got lonely at night and would love to sleep over with him.

But it was one night, Squall debated with himself. One measly night. Angelo would be fine.

With a muttered oath, Squall swung his legs over the edge of his bed and sat up. Angelo would be fine, yes, but _he_ would get no sleep worrying about second-guessing himself and abandoning Rinoa's trusty companion for the last part of the night. Then he just sat with his bare feet on the cold wooden floor and contemplated his current state of dress. He cast a glance at the clock, then at his clothes tossed negligently over the back of his chair.

It was fifty minutes after midnight, long after curfew, and all SeeD, trainees, and Garden staff were to be in their dorm rooms with the door locked, even if they weren't asleep. But Garden was neither a prison nor a monastery, and it was that magic hour where all life was still and silent and just perfect for sneaking off to the so-called 'secret' area in the back of the Training Center for a late-night rendezvous with your significant other.

Not, of course, that Squall knew that from firsthand experience.

…Of course.

Hauling his weary body to his feet, Squall tugged on his shirt and pants again as he headed for the door. The last thing he needed was to be caught wandering the halls in his boxers by some impressionable and big-mouthed trainee. Or an instructor. Squall shuddered. Instructors were without a doubt infinitely worse than their students, and who knew what kind of rumors they'd spread about him behind his back and in front of his face if one of them happened to be up and wandering the hallways.

Angelo was glad to see him, and Squall let the door swing open behind him as he checked the note Selphie had left for him on the table, ignoring the dog planting her paws on his chest and licking his chin in greeting. _Took Angie for a walk after dinner, let her play in the fields. I'll be back tomorrow morning to feed her at seven if she's not with you. –Selph_

"Thanks, Selphie," Squall murmured, then snapped his fingers for Angelo to fall in step beside him. She obediently followed him out of Rinoa's rooms and down the hall, her paws padding almost soundlessly over the floor. It was sort of…nice, Squall decided, as Angelo sat patiently at his hip and waited for him to uncode the door to let them both in, having a dog just to hang around with and care for. One that was trained and friendly and well-mannered and didn't lurk in the shadows beneath his feet.

"Unlike cats," he said aloud, just to needle Pumpkin, who was sitting primly on the arm of the sofa, watching for his return. As if understanding the words, Pumpkin turned his back to Squall and, lifting his leg, began to wash in the ultimate of feline insults. Squall just shook his head and moved to the bedroom. He flipped on the bedside lamp before turning off the lights and, heaving a relieved sigh at the welcome comfort of his bed, crawled under the blankets. He thumped the mattress beside his hip in invitation, and he was greeted with two thumps—one soft, one heavy—as both dog and cat landed on top of him. Squall merely grunted.

"Good-night," he mumbled, yawning and reaching to shut off the light. Angelo circled twice, then lay down in a tight little roll with her chin resting against his stomach, Pumpkin performing a similar and no less enthusiastic routine on Squall's head.

And thus, warmed by his four-legged friends' company, Squall slept.

* * *

Rinoa Heartilly shivered in the cold as she hoisted her duffel bag over her shoulder and leaned over the window to pay the cabby the proper fare. She offered a warm, if somewhat tired, smile to the bored-looking driver who had taken her the last leg of her journey from the Balamb train station. Flipping out the bills from her wallet, Rinoa counted the change, calculated a more than generous tip for the service—or what could have laughingly been called 'service'—he had offered her, and handed it over. "Thanks for the midnight trip," she said with a friendly wave. "Keep the change." He barely acknowledged her with a nod before he rolled up the window and zipped off, leaving her alone at the Garden's front gates.

Despite the icy temperatures—the cold of the middle of the night that just seeped straight to her bones—and her travel fatigue, Rinoa dredged up the energy to plant her hands on her hips and scowl indignantly a the retreating taillights. "Well, that was just rude. That's the last time I ever take Balamb Speedy Cab. Hmph." With a dismissive flick of her hand, Rinoa turned to the impressive front entryway to Balamb Garden and started up the long flight of stairs. All she wanted was a few hours' good sleep in bed in a toasty warm room to set her up before she ran over to Squall's room and gave him a long-overdue and much-anticipated welcome home kiss. And whatever else that might follow…

A blush tinged Rinoa's cheeks, and she glanced around furtively, as if anyone who might be about to see her would be able to read her thoughts. It wasn't that she always thought about Squall like that, it's just…he was the most amazing kisser, and there was something terrifying and delightful about the way he held her, the way he looked at her with those gorgeous sapphire eyes, the feel of his skin on hers…

Rinoa snapped her head back into place and concentrated on crossing the great expanse of foyer to the hallway that wrapped around the central elevator bank to the dormitories. She really needed that sleep. It was only exhaustion that was letting her get away with following that particular train of thought.

Yeah, Rinoa though, amused with herself. _Just_ exhaustion.

She came to the split in the hallway and paused. Logically, she should take the right wing and head straight for Angelo and her bed. But part of her—a very large, very persuasive part of her—wanted to go left, where the higher ranking SeeD dorms were. Rinoa glanced towards her room, and guilt gnawed at her heart as she hesitated. One more night alone wouldn't make much of a difference to Angelo, she justified reluctantly, and headed to the left.

But one more night without Squall might just kill her.

Rinoa dug into her bag for the keycard to unlock Squall's door. They had exchanged lock codes over a year ago, when they had decided with finality that they were willing and committed and serious about their relationship. As if, Rinoa thought with a smile as she pulled the keycard out of the small compartment of her traveling case, Squall could have been anything else.

But still, nerves danced in her belly as she unlocked the door and slipped into the darkened front room. It was only the fifth or sixth time she had used her card—usually she was with Squall when she was in his room—and the first time she'd entered, without his knowing, while he was in.

Rinoa shut the door behind her quietly, careful not to make any noise as she set her bag down by the sofa and out of the way. The clock on the wall glowed faintly, the time reading just after four AM, as she pulled off her shoes, lining them up neatly beside her bag, and folded her thin blue jacket onto the sofa cushion. She shivered, rubbing her hands over her arms. She'd forgotten that Squall didn't like his bedroom to be quite as toasty as she preferred.

But that was okay. Squall was always nice and warm

She stood in the doorway to the bedroom, one hand on the doorframe to orient herself, and waited for her eyes to adjust to the deeper darkness within.

And stifled a yelp of surprise.

Two pairs of eyes—one a sleepy brown, one a sharp and brilliant emerald—stared back at her, and she was greeted with a quick flurry of loud, welcoming woofs.

"Angelo?" Rinoa whispered it in shock the same time Squall spoke, shifting to a more comfortable position and giving the dog a sharp and probably accidental nudge with his foot.

"You think I'm getting up one more time for you, you're wrong." His voice was slurred and heavy with sleep. "Hold it in 'til morning, and if you piddle on my floor, I'll have to…" The threat trailed off into deep, even breathing as Squall fell back asleep, but those uncanny green eyes from where Squall's head should have been continued to gaze at her. Confused, Rinoa eased forward, murmuring to Angelo and hoping she wouldn't bark again. Angelo whined and, kicking her hind feet against Squall for leverage, flipped onto her back for a tummy rub as Rinoa quietly felt her way across the space to the side of the bed. She shifted her attention to the green eyes, letting Angelo lick her elbow as she scratched the furry stomach. They had to be cat eyes, she decided, but what was Squall doing with a cat on his head?

"Oh, never mind." Too tired to figure it out, Rinoa made her way up the side of the bed and, praying the cat wouldn't be territorial—though if anyone were to be territorial, Squall was _her_ boyfriend—slipped under the covers and snuggled up against Squall's chest. His warmth slowly seeped into her, and she curled into him, resting her head against his chest and inhaling his scent—soap and fresh air and a little bit like fabric softener and leather from his clothes. It was a soothing, familiar scent, and Rinoa sighed contentedly, feeling her tremors slowly calm as the peace of being home wrapped around her.

And even in sleep, Squall turned to her, wrapped his arm around her waist to draw her closer. Even in sleep, he pressed his face to her hair and breathed softly against her. Even in sleep, he spoke her name.

Content and safe, Rinoa closed her eyes and let him hold her.

* * *

"Commander. Commander Leonhart, please respond."

The mechanized voice buzzed persistently in his ear, and Squall felt his mind unwillingly dragged to the surface of consciousness through the thick, murky layers of oblivion. He kept his eyes closed, too tired to open them, and cuddled closer to the warm body lying in his arms beside him. He'd nearly gone back to sleep when the voice spoke again, louder and more insistently.

"Commander Leonhart, this is the Headmaster's office. We have a Class Two, Level Six situation that requires your presence promptly. I repeat, Class Two, Level Six in the Headmaster's office."

Squall groaned and rolled over onto his stomach to bury his head in the pillow, his mind too fogged by the need for rest to even consider responding to the order. Someone squeaked in protest as he shifted his weight on top, and Squall jerked fully awake as if jabbed by the pointy end of a Tonberry's Chef's Knife, yanking himself back and off whoever it was lying beneath him. His sudden movements had both animals sprawled over his bed leaping off with a two-toned chorus of grumpy displeasure, but Squall barely registered their protests as he stared down at Rinoa.

"Rinoa?" He rubbed his bleary eyes with one hand, sleep shed as instantly in the face of presumed danger, his mind clicking instantly into action. It was obvious it was her, so there was only one logical comment to make. "Oh. You're back early then." Even if it was glaringly obvious.

It was nearly infuriating how quickly Squall could snap himself into fully-operational awareness—that is, it would have been, had Rinoa had the energy to even reach a state of mild irritation. Instead, she offered him a fuzzy smile, rubbing her eyes with both hands like a sleepy child as Squall propped his weight against his elbows to look down at her. "Good morning, Squall. I hope you don't mind, but I snuck in on you last night. Be my best friend, would you, and lie back down? –But not on top of me this time. I'm cold, and you're hogging all the blankets."

He couldn't help but smile at her and comply, stretching out beside her and tucking her under the dark blue covers. Never much for pleasantries or small talk, Squall contented himself with brushing his fingers over her cheek and watching her finish waking up as his heart settled back to its normal rhythm.

Even after nearly two years together, Rinoa could still steal his breath—and his heart—at the most random of times. He had come far in accepting his feelings for her, but it was still, at times, difficult for him to believe her feelings for him. It was hard to grasp that someone like Rinoa could and did love him—him, Squall Leonhart, of all people. He thought it might always baffle him how they had ever managed to come together as far as they had—her, all love and caring and laughter and stubbornness, and him, filled with doubts and darkness, insecurity and self-loathing. But they had done it, hadn't they? Squall smiled absently and trailed his fingers through Rinoa's hair. They'd gone and forged something deeper than fear, something more lasting than time.

Something stronger than shadows.

"What are you smiling about?" Rinoa's gentle question drew Squall's attention back to reality and the present, and he glanced down to meet her warm, inquisitive gaze. "What is it?"

He shook his head, unable to voice aloud his most precious thoughts, even to her, and tilted her face up to his in a kiss that had her sighing sweetly against his lips. "Good morning, Rinoa. If I'd known you were coming, I'd have turned the thermostat up," he commented as she snuggled up against him. "When did you get in?"

Rinoa could guess immediately where this conversation would end, but there wasn't anything she could do to avoid it, so she merely sighed and hugged him to her, pressing her cheek against his chest to listen to his heartbeat, so steady and strong. "About four. Angelo barked a couple times, and you woke up but didn't see me."

There was a slight pause as Squall recalled the memory. "Oh, yeah, that. Your dog goes pee more often than anything." Then came the inevitable. "How did you get here from Balamb? Did Zell drive you over?"

Anticipating Squall's reaction, Rinoa let her arms drop loosely from around his waist. "No, I didn't want to bother him so late—so early, I suppose. I took a taxi."

And true to her predictions, Squall pulled back to frown down at her, stern consternation in his midnight blue eyes. "You took a _cab_ in the middle of the night? Alone? Don't you know how dangerous that can be, especially for women? You don't have any idea what kind of guy you'll get as a driver, or what he might try to do." If Squall were prone to wide hand gestures, he might have waved one in the air to indicate any number of illicit acts a taxi cab driver would attempt with a pretty young woman traveling unaccompanied.

Instead he watched disappointment fill Rinoa's eyes even as a frown crossed her face. His concern was touching, but, seriously, Rinoa had her limits. And besides…"How do you know it was a man?"

Squall wanted to roll his eyes, but he didn't. "Did you have a female driver?"

Now Rinoa's frown turned into a pout. "Well, no, but that's beside the point."

"The point," Squall stressed, "is that you shouldn't do things like that because it's dangerous. You just never know what other people might do."

Now it was Rinoa's turn to roll her eyes, and she wasn't quite as inhibited as Squall in refraining from doing so in front of his face. "Really, Squall, that's the sort of attitude that wins you no friends. And I know how to defend myself, even if the cabby were some sort of lecherous monster whose sole existence was to prey on young women who wander the streets at night armed to the teeth. I was careful to approach a decent-looking driver, and he wasn't drunk, so it wasn't like we were going to get in a car accident." She felt vaguely like she were a teenager again, arguing with her father over a late-night return from an outing with her friends. "Besides, do you think I wouldn't know better than to put myself in a potentially harmful situation without being prepared?" He didn't reply, and Rinoa looked away. His silence hurt, even if she understood, rationally, that he couldn't have done anything else.

He was, after all, just Squall.

"We don't have time to fight about this now," she added, keeping her eyes averted as she gently pushed him away. "Didn't you get some sort of summons from Cid? You should leave."

"Yeah. I'm going." Squall flipped back the covers and got out of bed, turning to tuck Rinoa back in. His eyes were soft and shy as his voice as he said, "I'm not mad at you, Rinoa. I just missed you so much, and I'm glad you came to me when you got back."

And, leaving her too stunned to respond to his sudden and unexpected confession, Squall turned and fled into the bathroom.

Rinoa was still sitting in the same position when he came back out, rubbing a towel over his damp hair. Squall glanced at her, then turned his attention to pulling his clothes out of the closet.

She spoke to his back as he dressed. "I'm not mad at you, either, Squall, and I understand your concern about me traveling alone. But I'm not fragile, and I'm not helpless. You have to trust me to be able to take care of myself."

"I do trust you." Squall deliberately finished fixing his belts around his hips before turning to face her. "I just don't want anything to happen to you."

Surprised and pleased by his honest answer, Rinoa pulled her legs up, hugging them to her chest, and smiled. "You're so sweet, Squall. My very own lion-hearted warrior-knight. And you see? You didn't die by saying what you felt." There was nothing Squall, being Squall, could say in response, so he merely turned back to the closet to dig out a shirt and pull it on. Rinoa leaned back against the headboard of Squall's regulation-standard bed, indulging herself in the pleasure of watching him move—all fluid motion and catlike grace. She spoke to fill the space, knowing Squall wanted to hear the details of her trip even if he would never ask himself.

"The mayor gave a nice little speech about Timber's history and future, and the president of Galbadia was there, too, at the ceremony. It was good of him to be there for the second anniversary celebration of our independence." Rinoa smiled and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear before tugging on the blankets to smooth them out. "Oh, and afterwards, Zone and Watts and I went out and had a little get-together party of our own. We went to this cute little bar beside the hotel and had a lot of fun, just talking about old times. Don't worry, I didn't drink much. Too bad I can't say the same about Zone and Watts, though. They were both so wasted by the end, they were singing and dancing on the bar counter. They were pretty good, too, you know. Zone said it was a shame you weren't there, _Commander_," she added with a sly smirk over at him. "They said they'd have loved to hear you sing with them. 'Moonlight Apocalypse' always sounds better when sung by a drunken trio than a drunken duo."

Squall winced at the title of the popular and raunchy ballad about a promiscuous outlaw and his wild midnight escapades, and Rinoa laughed at his reaction. He walked over to her, tapping a finger on her nose and leaning over so they were eye to eye. "I have better taste than that, _Princess_, and don't be holding your breath on that one, either. Hey. And when have you been serenaded by drunken trios?" She laughed and stuck her tongue out at him, and Squall eased back, reaching for his gunblade to strap to his leg. "I have to go see what the Headmaster wants now. I'll meet you in the cafeteria for breakfast afterwards?" His voice rose subtly on a question, and Rinoa nodded. "The usual, then. Seven-thirty."

"It's a date." Rinoa was laughing as she reached out and caught Squall by the two belts crossed over his hips, giving him a firm yank back to her as he turned to leave. "Not so fast, Leonhart." She locked her arms around his neck and kissed him firmly, feeling the thrill whip through her even as she used her mouth and tongue to seduce him. Rinoa drew away only when she felt his heartbeat speed up, his arms coming around her to hold her close, tugging gently on his bottom lip with her teeth. She smiled sleepily at him, her eyes filled with a lazy contentedness, and patted his cheek affectionately. "Have a good meeting, honey."

It was quite a powerful feeling to see Squall completely and utterly lost, his eyes blank and dazed, as he pressed his lips together and took a wobbly step backwards. "Huh? Oh, yeah. Sure. Okay. Bye." He moved to the door, as if lost in a fog, and rammed his knee smartly into the doorframe. "Ouch." Rinoa had to stifle a giggle as he left the room, closing the door behind him without another word.

Squall wasn't the only one capable of stunning beyond words the one he cared for most.

He had shaken off most of his shock by the time he'd entered the elevator and requested the uppermost level. That early in the morning, most students were either still asleep or just waking up, and Squall looked out the tinted glass walls of the elevator at the still, sleeping Garden. It was sort of creepy to see the great building so empty, like a great, breathing beast; but at the same time, Squall enjoyed the peace.

It had been over two years since they'd defeated Ultimecia and brought harmony to their planet of Hollow Bastion, and Squall was thankful that the chaos was over and put to rest for good.

He was tired of fighting.

The hallway to the Headmaster's office was eerily still, but Squall strode forward almost without noticing it, his mind automatically switching to Commander mode as he entered the reception area.

Nida, Headmaster Cid's hard-working secretary, filing cabinet, and walking memory bank all in one, looked up from his computer and grinned at Squall. "Hey, good morning, Commander. There's coffee over there—" he gestured to the wall where a table was invariably stocked with refreshments "—if you want. If you could give the Headmaster a few minutes before going in? He'll be ready to see you soon."

Squall fixed Nida with a look. It might have been despairing, it might have been reproving. Rinoa described it best as his "Commander Squall Death Glare", and, privately, Squall thought it was pretty accurate. "You know me better than that, Nida. If you're going to wake me up at six o'clock in the morning, you should be ready to go when I get here." He flicked a hand at Nida over his shoulder as he headed for the closed door to Cid's office.

Nida hopped to his feet but didn't try risking his life by lunging after Squall to try to stop him. "Squall, wait. You might not want to—" The door swung shut, and Nida winced, dropping back down into his chair and casting a baleful stare at the empty space where Squall had been a moment earlier, muttering, "Well, don't say I didn't warn you."

Squall had taken three long strides towards the Headmaster's desk before he realized what Nida had been trying to tell him.

Cid and his wife Edea stood together by the window, lost in an intimate embrace that had Squall very nearly blushing. They were so obviously in love it was embarrassing just to be near them, and Squall had to stop himself before he shuffled his feet uneasily as both adults turned to face him.

Cid left one arm around Edea's slim waist and smiled distractedly at Squall, and the young Commander had the distinct pang that he had looked exactly the same leaving his bedroom only minutes earlier. "Prompt as always, Squall, though today I'd go as far to say you're here really early. Is something wrong?"

Squall was used to the Headmaster's absent-mindedness, and he caught the sympathetic glance Edea cast his way. Even after all these years, she was the same as he remembered her—or thought he remembered—from his childhood. Tall, slender, elegant—'regal', Irvine had said once, and Squall tended to agree—she was sort of pretty, too, even though she was old enough to be his mother.

"You called him here, dear," Edea reminded her husband before Squall could speak, winking secretly at him as she guided Cid to his desk. "Remember? Something about Class Two, Level Six."

"Oh, of course." Cid blinked, perplexed, over his glasses, moving to sit down behind his desk and gesturing for Squall to take one of the chairs facing him. "Sit down, Squall. Thank you for coming right away." Squall hesitated, then did as Cid said, deciding that he didn't need to mention the twenty-minute delay—not quite as 'right away' as he could have managed, really.

But Cid was already continuing. "You know we run junior trainee classes for children under ten—of course you know, you're Commander." Cid gave a baffled little laugh and shot a glance at his wife, standing unobtrusively beside his desk, in a way that made Squall want to squirm in his seat. "I'm more scatter-brained than normal this morning. Please forgive me."

Squall concentrated on not feeling the overwhelming queasiness in his stomach. He had no one to blame but himself for barging in on them like he had. Hadn't Nida tried to warn him?

But it was infinitely more satisfying to hold Nida responsible for not speaking quickly enough.

Squall made himself focus again on what Cid was saying. "…is the normal instructor, but she was called away unexpectedly last night due to a family emergency back at Trabia Garden." He named the recently-completed SeeD training center in what Squall secretly thought of as the godforsaken frozen wasteland of the far north.

"I was, unfortunately, not informed of this development before we adjourned our debriefing meeting last night and only found out myself when I received a call earlier this morning. The new session begins today—this morning, in fact, at nine. We could, of course, call for an emergency replacement from the nearest Garden. Quistis is at Galbadia, isn't she? Her name is on top of the on-call list for substitute instructors, but I'm afraid it's such short notice."

Frowning a little, Squall flipped through his mental files. "There are no substitutes on grounds? Xu isn't teaching this semester, nor are Vincent or Aki."

"Yes, yes." Cid tapped his glasses up on his nose and peered at the papers in front of him. "Vincent is on temporary probation and will be appearing in front of the Disciplinary Board at the end of this week for a rather, ah, lewd and drunken display at a Balamb bar last week. Aki just had knee surgery done and will be unable to teach until the fall session. And Xu is on maternity leave through the summer."

"Oh. Right." Squall had forgotten about that. And why hadn't he been appraised of Vincent Hafor's probation earlier? "And they were the only substitutes?"

Cid consulted his notes. "It seems that way. We were stretched a little thin this semester—we had to add another two classes to accommodate the increase in enrollment. Or was that last year?"

"You're correct, dear, it was this year." Edea smiled fondly at Cid, and Squall was struck incongruously with what an odd couple the two made. Beautiful and mysterious Edea and dumpy, somewhat bumbling Cid. Sorceress and knight. But they made it work, somehow, despite and around everything else that had happened.

They had made it work, hadn't they?

Squall caught himself drifting and snapped himself back. Maybe he should have had some of that coffee, after all.

"In any case." Cid flapped his hands in the air in some sort of indication. Of what, Squall wasn't quite sure. "We have no available qualified SeeD instructors on our on-call list. I could try to put a request in to Galbadia, but…"

"Bureaucrats and their paperwork," Edea smiled fondly at Squall with a maternal sort of gentleness that made him nearly as uncomfortable as her earlier intimacy with her husband. "We can't really hope that Galbadia would be willing or able to send over an instructor, even for a temporary basis, even if we were to offer to take your Ragnarok and pick him or her up. I'm sorry, but there just aren't any other options, Commander." Squall blinked, momentarily confused by her strange form of address—Edea never used his proper title, unless…

Squall goggled, first at Edea, then at the Headmaster. Both gazed back at him apologetically, and Squall slumped back in the chair in shock.

And said the first thing that came to mind.

"Well, shit."

* * *

6.26.05 


	2. You can't get away

**Losing Heart**

_Chapter Two:  
You can't get away

* * *

_

Squall was nearly in control of himself as he strode down the hallway to his dorm room, a thick file tucked under one arm. To the students he passed—and ignored—he didn't seem any different than normal, if perhaps a little more preoccupied than usual, his steps maybe slightly quicker than his usual, long-legged stride as he hurried down the corridor. He barely flicked a glance at the cluster of recent SeeD cadets at their usual spot, the junction of the right and left wings, tittering with their heads together as he passed. Such was his preoccupation that he didn't even spare them the single thought that habitually crossed his mind on his daily trips back to his dorm room: _What are these girls _doing

Inside, Squall could feel himself settling slowly from the ferocious aftershocks of Cid and Edea's unforeseen announcement, and he forced himself to take a deep breath to calm the nerves that coiled greasily in his gut. He had faced monsters and machines with the sole intent of wiping his intestines across the land; he had faced humans just as deadly; he had fought through time compression and had even survived the indigestion following the hot dog eating contest Zell had convinced him to enter with him at Fisherman's Horizon's first annual Hot Dog Festival last summer.

Being trapped in a room full of seven- and eight-year-old children couldn't be all _that_ terrifying…could it?

He was still a little shaky when he reached his door, and it took him two tries to get the door unlocked as he fumbled to swipe his keycard through the slot. Not looking where he was going, Squall nearly stepped on Angelo, sprawled on her side across the front rug in ambush, and for the second time in as many days, Squall was forced to throw himself overhead to avoid stomping on a paw or tail.

"Dammit, Angelo!" Squall found himself sitting on the coffee table as he stared at the dog, his heart hammering rapidly in his chest from the surprise. "You're as bad as Plumpy, do you know that? I take back anything I thought earlier about dogs being better than cats. Cats, at least, are a decent size."

Apologetic, Angelo flattened her ears and whined, rising to her feet and taking a tentative step forward, her large, brown eyes trained on Squall's in sincere repentance as she wagged her tail hopefully. Squall held out against those pleading eyes for four long, painful seconds, then caved and tossed the file onto the table behind him, holding his hands out to her in invitation and letting her plow into him. "Okay, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell at you. You're a good doggy. Why are you still here?"

"Because I am." Squall lifted his gaze to find Rinoa standing in the doorway between his bedroom and the front living area, her hair damp from a recent shower. She was barefoot and dressed only in a light green T-shirt no doubt unearthed from somewhere in his dresser and the pair of boxers he'd left tossed onto the floor in the corner. With a jolt, Squall realized he'd probably worn them sometime earlier that week and had yet to wash them, and he had to swallow as his mind immediately veered off-track.

Giving his head a slight shake, as if to dislodge the thoughts that clung persistently to his mind with sharp little claws, Squall nonetheless let a small smile play over his lips as his gaze swept her from head to feet. She looked…_cute_, he thought, amused as she curled her toes in reaction to his inspection. She'd never borrowed his clothes before—that is, he'd never seen her borrowing his clothes before—and he wasn't quite sure how he felt about it.

But he had to admit, she looked really sexy in his underwear.

Rinoa blushed and tucked her hands behind her, her gaze dropping as she twisted gently back and forth, an endearing habit left over from her childhood. "Um…" She wasn't sure what Squall was thinking, his cobalt eyes unreadable even to her practiced eye. She'd never worn his clothes before, and she wasn't quite sure what he was thinking. She hadn't wanted to overstep the boundaries of their relationship—even after two years, there were still areas yet to explore, shadowy pockets and corners left untouched, either from hesitance to forge forward before they were both ready or from uncertainty about their own desire to make something more of what they had.

This was one of those things Rinoa hadn't wanted to force Squall into before he was ready. Rinoa hadn't thought he'd be back so soon—though a small part of her whispered accusingly that borrowing his clothes and not telling him wasn't much better than borrowing his clothes when he wasn't ready for what it meant—and now could only hope he wouldn't be too mad.

Trying for a nervous smile—what was he thinking behind those inscrutable sapphire eyes?—Rinoa let her wandering eyes land on her dog. "You talk more to Angelo than to me. Do you prefer her company? I could leave and give you two some private time if you'd like."

Squall shooed Angelo away, standing and walking to Rinoa. There were no words to describe the humming of his heart in his throat, the emotions that swirled through him as she stood there, eyes wide on his face with a strange mix of apprehension and excitement. She looked so adorable, so _right_, wearing his clothes, and there was no way to explain it or to even voice aloud the jumbled thoughts running through his muddled mind.

A little nervous by the deliberate way Squall was striding towards her, his face set and intent, Rinoa swallowed over the tightness in her throat, backing up until she bumped into the wall, her heart fluttering as he caged her body with his, her breath locking in her lungs as his hands sliding low over her hips. "Um…Squall?"

He heard the trepidation in her voice, understood the reason she was trembling beneath his touch. But he honestly couldn't have done anything else, leaning forward—leaning into her—to rest his forehead against hers, his mouth brushing hers as he murmured, "She doesn't talk back as much as you do." His lips curved an instant before he nudged her head back, tipping her face to his to catch her mouth in a deep, warm kiss that had her melting against him, her hands lifting to his shoulders, then going limp as he moved closer to take her weight, her knees wobbly as the heat of his kiss swept through her.

"I'm back from my meeting, honey." Laughter danced in his eyes as he leaned back, his teeth scraping lightly over her wet bottom lip as he drew slowly away, his smile contented as he moved one hand to twine his fingers with hers, his other hand sliding along her thigh to finger the hem of the boxers. "Maybe they'll give me a raise, and we'll be able to afford a shopping trip so we can buy you some clothes of your own next time we go into town."

The fluttering traveled down to her stomach, and Rinoa was glad for the wall's support—and for Squall's, holding her lightly against him—as her knees suddenly went weak. Squall very rarely made jokes, even now, and had never joked about the mundane domestic chores of living together. Her heart leapt into her throat at the unintentional implications, and she swallowed. "Squall…"

He understood her confused hesitation and eased back reluctantly. "Sorry." Squall offered her that smile—that warm, oh-so-shy smile that simply stole her heart—and released her hand, rubbing his palm over her hip in easy affection before stepping off to the bedroom to return his gunblade back to its corner. Chances were he'd be going back out shortly, but there was that file to look at first, and he didn't like having his Lionheart just laying around when it had its own special case for a reason. "So, why haven't you left yet?"

From anyone else, it might have sounded demanding—or insulting—but from Squall it was neither, nothing more than what it was: a simple question, and his unique way of _not_ saying he was glad she was still there.

"Well, I was planning on going back to my room to shower, but I must have fallen back asleep after you left." Rinoa watched Squall carefully set his gunblade down in the padded case, then strip off his black jacket as concession to the daytime heat. It was still early spring, but the past week had been unseasonably warm, the sun beating down on the continent of Balamb with a surprising ferocity for having just stepped out of the last clutches of last season.

"All I wanted when I woke up was a hot shower—you know how public trains make me feel, sort of gross and grimy—especially on overnight rides—so I thought I'd just borrow your bathroom for a bit." Her cheeks heated treacherously as she added, "I wasn't really planning on staying around long enough for you to catch me wearing your clothes." _Though if you kiss me like that every time I do, I'll make sure to rummage through your drawers more often,_ she promised silently before hurrying on before her deepening blush could betray her, "Anyway, your cat kept waylaying me. I don't think he—it is a he, right?—likes me very much." Squall glanced up to Plumpy's favorite spot, tucked on the top of his bookshelf between the thick volumes of Garden rules and regulations, to find the cat glaring with what must have been pure feline jealousy at Rinoa.

Squall grinned and led Rinoa back to the front room—the immediate essentials taken care of, it was time to take a look at that dreaded folder the Headmaster had given him—as Plumpy hunched his shoulders in displeasure. "Plumpy? He's probably just miffed because he had to share his bed with _two_ humans and the dog last night. Don't worry, I'm sure he'll get over it soon enough."

Sitting down beside Squall, Rinoa leaned back far enough to look him in the face. " 'Plumpy'?" She asked, skeptical. "What kind of name is that for a cat like him? He doesn't look fat to me."

His half-smile was rueful. "I found him wandering around the Training Center the day after you left for Timber. He was still there for the next few days, so I figured he must have been a stray. I thought I'd adopt him, maybe, if he and Angelo got along—they don't seem to have any problems. Anyway, my first choice of names was 'Stripes', but I thought you'd laugh at that and say it's too 'unimaginative', so his name's Pumpkin. But since that's too long, I call him 'Plumpy', because 'Pumpy' sounds so dumb. Hey. You're laughing at me anyway," he pointed out as Rinoa stifled a giggle. "I don't know why I even try. I liked Stripes much better, and if you're going to hurt my feelings, maybe we'll abandon Pumpkin after all."

There was an outraged yowl from the direction of the other room, and Squall glanced up to see the orange cat stalk angrily into the room, his eyes narrowed to slits. Squall, realizing what had upset his new pet, hastily qualified his previous statement. "No, Plumpy, we're not abandoning _you_, we'd abandon the _name_. I won't get rid of you, as long as you behave, so don't worry." Rinoa muttered something in his ear and Squall, guessing what she'd said, turned to run a hand over her shoulder and murmured in her ear, "If he continues to be bad, I'll give him away. He's a nice cat, normally, but not worth you being unhappy."

Rinoa's eyes were warm as she kissed Squall lightly. "You're so sweet," she said, then contented herself with resting her head on his shoulder as he turned his attention to the folder on the table before him. "New briefing from the Headmaster?"

Squall made a face and picked up the folder. It was so plain, so innocuous. Nobody would suspect that, beneath the plain tan cover lay the source of his irrational, uncontrollable fear. Nobody would think twice about the regulation file given for all new assignments given to SeeDs, tucked under the Commander's arm as he walked the halls. Nobody would even spare a lone thought as to the dangerous, volatile, destructive plans lying beneath the deceptively plain wrapping.

Lesson plans.

"Sort of," he admitted finally, turning the file over and over in his hands nervously. As if he could avoid the truth by delaying opening the cover. Squall gave himself a mental kick and glanced at the wall clock. He really couldn't afford to stall any longer; he needed all the time he had to prepare, and he and Rinoa still had their standing date to have breakfast together in the cafeteria. Knowing the state of the Garden dining hall during rush meal hours—especially on the first day of a new semester—Squall didn't have any pretenses about getting any studying done once he left the room. It was now or never. Learn the strategy now, and commit to memory every detail so that he would walk into room 206 fully prepared.

Who was he kidding? _Years_ of studying papers and plans and outlines wouldn't prepare him for what he would have to face once the nine o'clock school bell rang and he found himself in front of thirty-four pairs of eager, innocent young eyes, all fixed on him as a source of information, strength, stability, instruction, leadership.

It was everything Squall hadn't wanted when he'd first fought the idea of being dubbed 'Commander' of Balamb Garden.

He realized he'd just been sitting there, lost in his own thoughts—something he still did frequently enough that Rinoa didn't find it unusual—and returned to the present to find Rinoa watching him with a smile. Squall returned it with one of his own before elaborating, "Headmaster Cid called that emergency early morning meeting to tell me that the normal instructor for the spring session of junior SeeD trainees was called away unexpectedly late last night. As we're short on substitutes this semester, it seems as if the duty has fallen upon, um, me to fill in until such time as we can find a more suitable instructor."

Rinoa's eyebrows lifted until they disappeared beneath the fringe of her bangs. It was only a matter of milliseconds before the laughter erupted—like a volcano, Squall thought with disgruntled affection—out of her, bubbling out to fill the small room joyously. "_You?_" she managed to gasp between desperate hiccups for air. "_Teaching? Children?_" The corresponding mental image her thoughts evoked proved too much for the young sorceress, and she threw back her head and cackled with unchecked and altogether improper glee. "I don't know how they'll stand it."

He was about to say 'thank you' for her sympathy when her words fully registered in his mind, and Squall gaped at her in shock. "Rinoa!" It didn't even cross his mind that he sounded exactly the way she did, all too often, when he was teasing her, her name coming out on a surprised, insulted breath. "That's not funny!"

"I'm laughing anyway," Rinoa tamed her delight to a few giggles, leaning over to pat him on the arm in commiseration. "I'm sorry. Sort of." He slanted her a dark-eyed glare, and Rinoa giggled again, then turned her gaze to the unopened file in his hands. "So? Are you going to actually open it, or just stare at it as if you could wish it into nonexistence?"

"If it doesn't work, it won't be because I'm not trying," Squall muttered, lifting his arm as Rinoa scooted closer to him and forcing him to accommodate her as she wiggled her way against his side. "Here goes nothing. The road to hell." He opened the folder.

It was something of a disappointment to find that the first page wasn't covered with—Squall wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, really—runes or mystic child-defying spells or the like. Instead, the list of student names, organized alphabetically by last name, stared blankly back up at him, a notation by each name denoting male or female; some names were followed by a brief mention of any SeeD training previously received.

Most of the students, Squall noted with a sinking feeling in his stomach, were completely new to the Garden; experienced ones, even mildly so, were the exception rather than the rule.

"Hm, I know some of these names." Rinoa nipped the paper from Squall's lap as he merely sat, as if paralyzed, and held the paper up for closer inspection. "You might recognize some of them, too, through older brothers or sisters. Parlafoc—that's Nida's name, isn't it?—Aelynne, it says. I think she goes by Lynne. And this one's Sandraine's little brother; you know, Sandy who works part-time as a mechanic in the Garden garage."

Dazed—that list was impossibly long, and how could Rinoa possibly sort through all those names and pick out ones she knew?—Squall nonetheless managed to put a teasing sneer in his voice. "We call it the 'parking lot', you plebeian."

Rinoa gave him a hearty shove with her shoulder, laughing even as she grabbed for the file before Squall let the contents scatter. By accident, of course. "I'm not a plebeian!" She was giggling as Squall caught her around the waist, dragging her with him as he fell backwards. From her position sprawled over his chest, Rinoa smiled and tried to ignore the persistent thrum of her blood. "You're never going to make it through all these notes at the rate you're going, Commander."

Squall sighed heavily and shook his head, plucking the folder out of her hands and giving it a negligent toss onto the coffee table before hooking his arms companionably around her waist. "Damn. You saw right through my intentions all along." Rinoa snorted, and he grinned, looking suddenly terrifyingly young. "We have time. Besides. You still have to change out of these clothes before we head down to the cafeteria for breakfast." One eyebrow arched smirkily as his hands moved to the hem of her T-shirt, giving in fully to the thoughts that hadn't stopped dancing at the edge of his awareness since the first moment he'd seen her standing there in his boxers. "Why don't I just help you take these off?"

* * *

His palms were damp with nervous perspiration, his skin cold and clammy as if he were in a state of emergency shock. And wasn't he? Irritated—trying to focus on irritation over the roaring anxiety having a field day with his blood pressure—Squall wiped his hands over his slacks. Over breakfast—once they'd made it down to breakfast—Rinoa had suggested he wear his formal SeeD uniform to class.

'_It'll make you look professional', she said,_ Squall thought, and tried to ignore the butterflies stomping steel-soled boots in his belly. His eyes swept over the students around the large classroom, mingling in the open, unabashed manner of children as of yet untainted by the darkness in the world. _I feel like an idiot._ An overdressed, out-of-place idiot surrounded by children dressed in their usual attire of T-shirts and shorts. Squall tried not to fidget with the stiff collar of his jacket and wondered, almost in an unreal fog induced by his nameless panic, if the students thought he was dressed strangely for the first day of school.

As if it mattered what a bunch of children thought of him…right?

The bell rang, loud and unnecessarily long. Squall felt his heart jolt uncomfortably in his chest as the students—somewhat reluctantly—made their way to their assigned seats, as indicated by the diagram on the screen on the front board. Squall was thankful their teacher—their _real_ teacher—had had the foresight to have all the plans already laid out for the first week of school, and a rougher sketch of what was to come in the following weeks.

It would make his job marginally easier.

_Spoke too soon,_ Squall berated himself a moment later as he found thirty-four pairs of eyes latched on to him, waiting expectantly for their first day of class to begin, just as he'd imagined.

_Nothing could make this easier._

Squall swallowed hard, sent a fervent prayer to Hyne for guidance and protection, and opened his mouth.

"Good morning." At least his voice sounded steady to his own ears, and Squall took one deep, calming breath before continuing. "Welcome to your first day of class here at Balamb Garden. I'm Squall Leonhart, and I'll be your, um, temporary instructor until a more suitable replacement can be found." The students continued to watch him in a mute, unwavering sort of fascination that was both unsettling and terrifying, and Squall could feel a trickle of sweat slither down his back as he hastily plunged onward.

"Your schedules have Instructor Lavince listed as your normal teacher, but due to unexpected circumstances, she was called away last night. We hope she will return to Garden soon and that all is well with her. Um…yes?" Uncertain how to react to the dark-haired girl in the front row raising her hand, Squall hesitated a moment before pointing at her, hoping she would somehow understand.

To his great relief, he'd apparently used an acceptable signal, and the girl lowered her hand before speaking, her wide, innocent eyes intent on his face. "You're our Commander, aren't you? My older brother said you're a very good Commander. It's your job to keep us all safe, isn't it?"

All those eyes, which had shifted to the speaker, returned to Squall full force, and he had to struggle not to stammer. "Yes, I'm the Commander of Garden, and it is my duty, as it is every SeeD members', to protect those at Garden from harm and danger." _Article 12, Section 7._ These, at least, were questions he could answer, and as long as they stayed simple like this, Squall thought maybe he'd be able to handle them…

"Commander Squall?" Squall looked up to find the girl in the yellow dress who had spoken earlier pointing at the door. "Someone's here."

Squall glanced up to find Rinoa in the open doorway, a warm smile on her face. "Sorry to interrupt, Commander." There was a sly twinkle in her eye, and Squall, remembering just in time that they weren't alone, hid his scowl as she entered. "Headmaster Cid asked me to deliver some papers to you." The doors automatically whisked shut as Rinoa stepped further into the room, approaching the desk and holding out the stack of papers for him to accept. Her back to the class, she whispered, "Introduce me. I'll stay and help." Sensing his hesitation, Rinoa smiled and lifted both eyebrows. "Cid gave me permission." Without waiting for a response, Rinoa turned to face the students in obvious expectancy.

Squall was torn between exasperation at her assumption and utter relief at her presence, but cleared his throat and said, "Class…We have a special guest today. Let me introduce Rinoa Heartilly—Sorceress Heartilly. She often guest teaches in the advanced magic class. If you've attended classes here at Garden before, you might recognize her."

Smiling disarmingly, Rinoa addressed the wide-eyed students. "Hello. I hope to get to know you all during your stay at Garden. If you have any questions for me, please feel free to ask."

There was a pause before a fair-haired boy raised his hand, and Squall watched in a mixture of awe and envy as Rinoa tilted her head in his direction in a casual and graceful movement to acknowledge him. There was a welcoming, easy smile in her voice when she said, "Yes? And your name is?"

"I'm Ted." The boy answered her solemnly before continuing with his question. "My best friend's brother is studying in Tr-Tr-Tra—"

"Trabia?" Rinoa supplied helpfully, and the boy—Ted, Squall fixed in his memory—smiled, grateful for her help.

"Yeah. In Trabia. An' he said he learned in history class that two years ago, you and Commander Squall fought a big battle against a lady from the future and saved us all. Is that true?"

Squall interrupted before Rinoa could respond, an appalled expression on his face. "We're in _history_ books?"

While Rinoa giggled helplessly at Squall's utter horrification, Ted nodded sagely. "Robbie—he's my best friend—showed me the book the last time I went up to stay with him. There were a lot of words and not many pictures, so it was really hard to read. But I remember it said that SeeDs were supposed to train to kill the sorceress. Is that true, too?"

"Don't be silly." That was from a darker blond boy in the next row back, and he frowned condescendingly at the first boy—at Ted, Squall mentally corrected. "SeeDs don't kill sorceresses, stupid, they learn from them. Weren't you paying attention earlier?"

The students started squabbling, and Squall understood, somewhere in his mind, that he should stop them, but all he could do was turn to Rinoa, shock plain in his eyes, and repeat, "History books? Rinoa, we aren't that old, are we? It was just two years ago."

She laughed and reached over to pat him comfortingly on the shoulder. "Don't worry," she teased. "You aren't going senile yet." The rising noise level had her tilting her head towards the students. "You'd better get them under control, Instructor Leonhart." She giggled at his narrow-eyed stare and added, "But you didn't know about the textbook thing? We each got a copy of the parts that involved us—you, being you, might have gotten an actual copy of the book, but Garden doesn't have the budget to spring for a copy for each of us involved. I'll show it to you after class."

Squall shook his head—history books, indeed; what a bunch of nonsense—and had to raise his voice to be heard over the shouts. "All right. All right already!" They quieted down, turning to look at him as Squall moved to stand in front of the desk beside Rinoa. "Sit down." They obeyed, immediately, and Squall said, "First of all, don't call people 'stupid'." He fixed the boy who had spoken last with a stern stare, then shifted his gaze.

"To answer your questions, Ted, yes, we fought a sorceress—she wasn't a lady—from the future to save, well, the world, I suppose. In doing so, this sorceress passed on her powers to Rinoa, so now she has sorceress powers. As for the rumor of the origins of SeeD…Originally, SeeD was formed to stop the sorceress from destroying our world; Garden was created to train SeeD to fulfill said objective. Now that the threat has passed, however, we have restructured the SeeD organization to diversify our focus from—"

Shaking her head—how easily Squall forgot he was speaking to seven-year-old children—Rinoa nudged him gently with her elbow, translating the words into something the students would be able to understand. "Now SeeDs are supposed to help me, the sorceress, and protect the local countryside. You are all training to be SeeDs, right?" There were nods from across the room, and Rinoa smiled. "It's hard, but I'm sure each and every one of you will succeed, especially if you have our Commander as your teacher. Are there any other questions? Yes?"

A girl raised her hand and blushed shyly when Rinoa called on her. "Um, my name's Lynne—Aelynne. I don't want to be rude, but…I was at the Training Center late one night with my friend, and we got back to the dorms after curfew, so I was going to stay over with her so I wouldn't get in trouble. Um, my friend's room is in the same wing as Commander Squall's, and…" Her gaze shifted briefly to Squall, then dropped, almost guiltily, as he gazed back at her. "Uh, we saw you going into his room, Sorceress Heartilly. Does that mean you two are going out?"

Squall turned a horrified shade of bright red while Rinoa burst into uncontrollable laughter, and—as he fought viciously to erase the damnable visible evidence of his utter mortification—Squall thought that neither reaction was fit for a SeeD instructor. Not that either of them had exactly signed up for this job—if one were to be specific, Rinoa wasn't even signed up as a SeeD at all—but here they were, and standing there mute, blushing, was _not_ what he should have been doing.

Recovering her breath, Rinoa lifted a hand to cover the smile that stretched gaily across her face and shot Squall a mischievous look. _You can't hide anything from a child,_ she thought, and then turned her attention to answer Aelynne's question. "Well, I was probably going to consult with the Commander about some Garden matters—we have ties with the other Gardens and many other factions around the world. Before I became sorceress, I was involved with a little rebellion group in the city of Timber…" She waved that away gracefully. "In any case, I often work with the Commander for such matters when there are no other experts in that particular field at the Garden. And our Commander, dedicated man that he is, often keeps late hours to ensure the safety of all of us here at Garden."

The children seemed to buy her excuse, and Rinoa back the last of her laughter, hooking her hands behind her back in a seemingly casual movement that she hoped hid the mortification running through her. She knew she _looked_ amused, but…Who wanted a child asking them such personal questions? "And, well, we _are_ going out, but the Commander is easily embarrassed by discussing such private matters in front of anyone. If you have any further questions, please feel free to ask me later." She dropped a wink at the naive children seated in front of her, then lifted her eyebrows in gentle invitation. "Are there any other questions?"

"I can't believe they asked that!"

Squall had changed out of his formal uniform and was dressed comfortably in his usual attire of white T-shirt and black pants. He was lounging easily at one of the tables in the cafeteria, lingering over a late lunch with his friends—junior classmen sessions ran until noon, and then the students and staff were free for the long afternoons.

His dark cobalt eyes narrowed dangerously on his longtime friend's face. "I'm glad our predicament is such a cause for your merriment, Zell," he drawled sardonically as the young martial arts master grinned broadly in obvious delight and disappointment that he'd missed the scene. "Perhaps you'd like the take tomorrow's class and let them ask _you_ similarly humiliating questions?"

The blond-haired Zell Dincht waved one hand in the air, unfazed by Squall's implied threat. He was long used to the commander's moods and simply took each one in stride, leaning back in the Garden-sanctioned metal chairs that were deviously fashioned for ultimate discomfort—probably to discourage students from lingering and disrupting the cafeteria staff from their favorite pastime of gossiping about students behind their backs.

"Don't worry," Zell replied, tossing a casual arm around the back of his wife's chair. "Thanks for the generous offer, but there's nothing they can say that might embarrass me. Man," and he let his mirth get the better of him again, "I wish I could have been there. That really would have been something. Right, Jamie?"

Zell's wife, the pretty, quiet 'girl with a ponytail' who still worked in the Garden library, smiled with disarming sweetness up at him. "Of course, dear. No embarrassing stories? In that case, I guess it wouldn't hurt to mention the little ducky boxers incident, or that time I walked in on you in the bathroom while you were—"

There was a certain satisfaction in watching scarlet flush across Zell's handsome face as he hastily interrupted, "No, no, no need to mention that at all, honey. Just hush up now." Rinoa, seated close beside Squall, giggled and exchanged secretive winks with Jamie. "Man. Sometimes I forgot she knows all my embarrassing moments." Catching his own mistake, Zell stammered in an attempt to save face, "Uh, you know, the few ones that I have…"

"Too late, Dincht," Rinoa quipped, laughing at her friend's mortification. "We've called your bluff. Ducky boxers? I think that's sweet. Don't you, Squall?"

Squall met Zell's steely-eyed gaze and was torn between the opportunity to make fun of his friend and the knowledge that his actions would sweep around to bite him in the ass immediately. Rinoa, thankfully, still didn't know about the 'ducky boxer incident', and he had no desire to let her in on the secret. Still, it was a good story…And it was more incriminating of Zell than of him, but there would be no denying his own complicity if he opened his mouth to voice his opinion one way or the other…

"I don't think Squall wants to say," Jamie said, malicious laughter dancing in her eyes. "Otherwise he'd be admitting his own involvement in this ducky boxers mess. Isn't that right, Commander?" The smile she sent him was sugary, and Squall winced as Rinoa rounded on him, accusing laughter in her eyes.

"You what! Don't tell me you've been keeping secrets from me, Leonhart."

Squall winced and tried to bluff his way out of it. "Well, you see, Rinoa, lying and not divulging the truth are subtly different. It's not that I was actively denying anything, I just wasn't…uh, actively…telling you, either."

He looked so pained, Rinoa merely shook her head, giving him a little pat on the arm. Her mind was already racing with plans for that evening—plans that involved the 'cuchi-coo' treatment, an array of torture devices, and a whole slew of 'Pain' spells, if necessary—but she tilted her head prettily. "I'll let you off the hook for now, Squall, but just you wait until I get you alone. Then you're in for it."

"Hey, that sounds like fun." Zell's humor had returned with the prospect of the ducky boxers incident fading in the background—for the moment. "Can I watch?"

He couldn't dodge fast enough as three wads of used paper napkins smacked him in the face.

* * *

8.2.05 


End file.
